


A Scandal, Not Nothing

by Rachel_Lu



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, College, F/M, Falling In Love, Requited Love, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Lu/pseuds/Rachel_Lu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rose Tyler meets John Smith at a club a few nights before her university classes start, she could've never imagined exactly how complicated that meeting would make her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yayy!! A new AU! I hope you guys all enjoy it!

She wasn't _drunk,_ she was just sick.  Really sick.  Sick enough for her to appear drunk, which was really quite frustrating indeed, as men kept lifting drinks to her and grinning in a vulgar sort of way.  She wondered what would happen if she was sick on them, or, even better, right on the dance floor.  And her friends had still made her go out.  She was wearing very comfortable clothes, black jeans and trainers with a loose blue shirt, hanging out by the back of the club.  Her coat was across her shoulders, and the oncoming chill told her to put it on.

"You should hang out with us!" Keisha shouted, twisting her arms up above her head. 

"I feel like I'm going to throw up!" Rose yelled back, her arms crossed over her stomach.  "I'm still sick, Keish!" 

The other girl didn't listen, instead grinned at her friend.  "Shareen and I just wanted you to get out, Rose, before you start classes!"

"I know, but that's ridiculous!" She yelled, "I'm twenty years old, I can have a night in my dorm!"

"You shouldn't have to!"

"Can we go home?" She whined loudly, feeling the bile churn in her stomach again.  

Keisha shook her head, and Rose questioned her ability to choose friends.  She grinned and shouted to Rose, "Get a drink, have some fun!" 

Rose turned away from her friend and walked away, grumbling about only wanting to drink ginger ale.  She felt a little woozy, but it wasn't because of alcohol, because of course, she hadn't had any.  She blinked, looking around to find somewhere to go, and spotted all the areas to sit.  Of course, she'd never used any sitting areas at any clubs, but here it was, and here she was, sick as a dog, so she was quite prepared for it.  She fell into a booth, starting off with her head on the table and eyes closed.  She couldn't be bothered to think about if someone were to try and kidnap her.  At this point, she'd just throw up on them and hope that all went well.

She shifted about in her seat, trying to get comfortable and hoping that Keisha and Shareen would try to find her at some point before they left.  In that booth, Rose Tyler started to drift off, her head tilting back against the wall, her legs out in front of her across the seat so no one could sit next to her.  Her eyes were closed and the music was rattling her aching brain.  What she wouldn't give to lay in her bed in her new dorm suite before her roommate got there. 

A shuffling unlike dancing pushed through her muddled brain and he heard someone approaching her and cracked an eye open and looked at the worried, tousled man in the brown suit.  She opened her other eye and regarded him fully.  "Hi," she croaked out, fighting her urge to close her eyes.

The man smiled softly at her.  "Are you drunk?" He asked, somehow being heard over the thumping of the bass.  

"I have the flu," she replied, "My friends made me come out."

The man reached his hand out for her.  "My sister dragged me along with her," he confided, "I can take you home, if you're sick."

At that point, Rose was finding that she would almost rather die via violent murder from this man then stay in the club another minute.  She nodded and scooted out from the booth, shoving her arms in the sleeves of her coat.  "I'd like that, thanks."  She slid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. 

"Seems like your friends aren't quite so good."  he said, helping to steady her as they headed for the front of the club.  She nodded and felt her knees start to buckle.  

"I don't feel good," she mumbled.  

He caught her around the waist, looking terrified with her behavior, and stood up, holding her to his side.  "It's alright, I've got you.  I'm a doctor.  Can you tell me where you live?"

"I don't... Just take me to..." She breathed out a harsh breath. "Take me to the chippy, the one nearest to here."

"Alright, absolutely," He said earnestly, "I understand, you don't want me to know where you live, and that's quite alright."

"No, yeah, I just-" She covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to retch all over him.  He pulled her out of the club and down the street a bit, towards his car.  She ducked out from under his arm to throw up next to the club.  The man made a face and one of the bouncers laughed. 

"Seems your bird's a lightweight, sir!" He shouted, and the other men around him laughed. 

The man forced a smile as he held Rose's hair back.  "Yes, that's why it's time to get her home, I think."

Once she'd finished, tears streaming from her eyes, he helped her back up and to his car.  "If you think you're going to be sick again, I'll pull over, okay?"

"Okay," she murmured miserably. 

He held open the door for her and helped her in before he walked around to his side of the car, climbing in and starting it up quickly.  He pulled out into the street, going a bit too fast, probably.  But he needed to get her home. 

She curled up in her seat, leaning her head against the part of the car next to the window.  "What's your name?" She mumbled, but with her being half asleep and sick, all he heard was "Wassername?"

Regardless, he got the idea and smiled at her a little bit.  "John Smith," he said softly, "That's me.  Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she said, "Thanks for taking me home," she said softly, her eyes slipping shut.  

"Well, what's your name?" he asked, trying to keep her awake so he wouldn't have to wake her up when he got to the chippy.  He wished that she would tell him where she lived, but unfortunately, she made sense.  He was a stranger, driving her home.  And he couldn't drive her all the way home, of course.  

He sighed as she hummed for a moment, trying to sort out an answer, apparently. 

"Rose Tyler," she mumbled.

"Rose Tyler," he rolled the words around his tongue.  "It's been my pleasure."  

Since he had been going considerably fast, they reached the chippy quickly. He parked in the lot and got out of the car, wrapping around to her side and pulling the door open slowly so she wouldn't tumble out.  She slipped a little but steadied herself, whimpering softly in what appeared to be pain.  

"It's alright, I've got you," John said, helping her to her feet.  "You'll be able to walk home, it'll be alright."

"Yeah," She murmured, gripping at his upper arms as he held her up.  She looked up into his face, her eyes a little bleary.  "Hello."

He smiled back at her.  "Hello."

She looked away from him and blew out her cheeks.  "I really don't feel good."

"I can walk you home, Rose, it's really no trouble," he said earnestly, watching her face go pale. 

She shook her head, then seemed to think better of it as her stomach turned. She gave him a tight smile.  "That's okay, my friend Mickey works at the chippy here, he can walk me home."

For a moment, she thought that he looked disappointed, and she fought back a smug look that she probably wouldn't have been able to give anyway.  "He'll be okay to take me home."

"He's working, isn't he?" John furrowed his brows.  

"Do you want my phone number?" Rose blurted out, "I can give it to you, if you want."

She saw his little touch of excitement as he nodded.  "Sure," He said, "Yes.  I mean, yes.  He pulled his phone from his trouser pocket, still keeping her steady with one hand.  "Read it off to me, here."

Rose did so, slowly, making sure she got all the digits right.  "I was gonna kiss you on the cheek," she said, "But my mouth is gross."

He laughed, a light sound that she decided she would much like to hear again, and she smiled up at him.  He slipped his phone into his pocket and held her waist.  "I'll call you tomorrow," he said, and bent down to kiss her on the forehead.  "I hope your friend sees you home safe."

"I'm sure he will," Rose assured him, her hands gripping his arms for support.  "And you can call me anytime, John Smith," She wrinkled her nose and laughed a little.  "Sorry, I'm not usually quite so forward.  No, sorry, I'm _never_ quite so forward."

He smiled widely at her, feeling younger than he had in a very long time.  "Neither have I," he said honestly.  

They bid each other goodbye, and Rose stumbled into the chippy, bombarded by the smells that would usually make her mouth water but instead made her feel sick.  Mickey was working behind the counter and looked over, a shocked expression passing over his face when he saw her.  

She watched as he hurriedly said he needed to leave to whoever was working with him, and ran around the side to come to her.  "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Keisha and Shareen made me go out, and I'm really sick," She said, "Can you walk me home?"

"Yeah, of course," Mickey walked her from the chippy and up the sidewalk.  "How did you get this far?"

"A guy from the bar drove me, don't worry, I didn't tell him what dorm or where," she reassured him, "He was just a really nice guy who didn't want to be there either."

Mickey made an odd sound of affirmation.  "So, he just agreed to drive you to the chippy?"

"I said I had a friend who could take me home," she replied, "And I do."

Mickey helped her into his car, which was far more beat up and less well kept then John's, but a ride nonetheless.  She fell back against the battered seat and sighed heavily.  Mickey watched her worriedly and began the drive to her dorm.  

"Careful you don't puke in my car, yeah?" He said anxiously.

"Yeah," Rose said weakly.  "I can't wait to go to bed," she murmured. 

She missed the sympathetic look that her friend threw her, and instead heard when he asked, "Alright, so why did Shareen and Keisha make you go out?"

"They wanted me to have fun before I went to my first classes," he said, "But it's bloody Cardiff, you know, and I was so _mad,_ but they wouldn't let me say no."  She blew out an angry sigh.  "And I already threw up before I got in John's car, so I think I'm okay."

"That's his name, John?" Mickey asked.

"Yeah."

"John what?" 

"Smith."

"Smith?!  Are you kidding?"

Rose looked over at him.  "Excuse me, but aren't you a Smith?" She asked incredulously. 

"Yeah, but _John_ Smith?  I dunno about that, Rose." He said, pulling onto campus. 

"Shut up, it's not gonna be anything serious," She said.  "He's gonna call me tomorrow, that's it."

"God, Rose, you gave him your phone number?"

She sighed angrily.  "He's _nice,_ Mick.  Held my hair back, held me up when I was trying to stand, offered to drive me home.  No harm can come of it."  She settled back against the seat and let her eyes flutter closed.  "You're just jealous."

"I'm not jealous," he was quiet for a few moments.  "I'm a little jealous."

She laughed, "My roommate is pretty cute, from what I saw of her pictures, you'd like her, I think."  

"Yeah, alright, Rose."  She could hear the laughter in his voice, happy that she was happy, even in her state.  "Here we are, dorm suite for the lucky ones."

Rose grinned at him.  "Thanks, Mick.  I'll see you later."

"Don't let that guy come over," Mickey said, pointing to her as she left the car.  "I don't want to find you dead in your dorm."

She chuckled and shook her head.  "Of course," she said before shutting the door.  She made her way up to her dorm, fumbling with the key in the lock and just managing to shed her jeans and coat before crawling under the covers before falling asleep. 

Meanwhile, Doctor John Smith was preparing to go to sleep as well, with the woman he'd met on his mind.  Perhaps she would be impressed with a University professor.  He usually didn't find something to like about someone so quickly, but the sick girl in the club booth would prove to be more of an issue then previously thought.


	2. Chapter 2

John's sister, Donna, called him quite angrily once he'd arrived back at his flat.  She wanted to know where he'd gone, of course, as he had vanished rather suddenly, and so he explained the whole thing, slowly. 

"Hang on," Donna said, and he could picture her pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration as she spoke.  "Are you trying to tell me that some young woman had the flu and upon you taking her home gave you her number?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"And you like her?  She puked in front of you, John!" Donna sounded either parts disgusted and confused and John sighed, realizing he really couldn't blame her for either. 

He made an odd sound in the back of his throat.  "She was very kind, Donna, and I'm sure there's more to her than illness.  I'll not call her in the morning, though, of course, she needs rest and-"

"You held her hair back.  While she threw up."

John wrinkled his nose.  "It was rather unappealing, yes, but there was something about her, Donna, that I've never experienced from anyone else."

"Hold on, there," Donna said, "You have struck out with women for years, John Smith, and it's not because of your looks.  Get your head out of those books of yours and you might have a case for yourself with this Rose person.  But right now, you have to focus on said work because you have classes to teach in a couple days."

"You're right," John said, surrender evident in his voice.  "I'm sorry I left you, Donna, but she was sick, and I knew you weren't going to be getting drunk."

"Of course," Donna said.  "Go to bed, Spaceman."

He laughed and shook his head.  "All right.  See you soon, Donna."

They bid each other goodnight and hung up.  John found himself only a little fixated on Rose as he prepared for bed.  Perhaps she'd be even better company when she wasn't sick.  He was already trying to block out the more unfavorable moments of the night as he switched his light off, promising himself he would do his work in the morning.

***

Rose woke up still feeling unwell, cuddled under her covers but no longer wanting to throw up.  Her phone buzzed next to her and she peered over at it, expecting a bunch of angry texts from Keisha and Shareen, and as she scrolled through her mobiles notifications, she saw there were many of those. But there was something else.  At the very top, the most recent message, was a message from an unknown number. 

_Rest today.  This is John Smith_

She wrinkled her nose but smiled.  He was a kind man, but an odd texter.  She set the phone down and rolled over, finding herself quite unable to deal with it at the moment.  It only took her ten minutes of laying there before she rolled over and snatched her phone up again, tapping out a reply before entering him into her phone book. 

_Will do, Doctor!_

Reminding herself that he was actually a Doctor made her smile a little bit.  Perhaps he would appreciate that little joke as well.  She set the phone back down and let her eyes flutter shut, hoping to catch some more sleep.  

If a text came through, she didn't hear it, as she slept for several more hours, right up until her roommate arrived.  She sat up at hearing the door unlock and the woman she recognized from her picture strode through the dorm room and into the bedroom with her things, looking flustered. 

"Hi," Rose croaked out.  "I'm Rose Tyler.  I'm sick.  Nice to meet you."

"Oh, no," Martha dropped her things on the floor and walked over to Rose, placing her wrist on her forehead. "A little bit of a fever.  How long have you been sick."

Rose giggled and shook off Martha's hand.  "A couple days.  I think I'm on the upswing.  They told me you were going to be a doctor."

"Yes," Martha beamed, going out to shut the door and start to unpack her things.  "You can sleep if you want, I'll be quiet."

"No, I should be getting up anyway," she said.  "Could do with a cuppa."  She sat up, rubbing her eye.  She looked around for a pair of trousers and gave up very easily, feeling too tired for it.  She looked over at her phone and clicked on it, looking at another text from John. 

_Very clever.  I'll speak with you soon._

She set it back down, not having anything to say to that, and wondered if he was finally repulsed by her behavior the night before. It would only make sense of course, she'd thrown up right in front of him, and God, he'd held her hair back.  

"Well, if you want some tea, I brought a coffee and tea maker, since we have a bigger suite, you know."

Rose sighed in relief, closing her eyes.  "Martha Jones, I think you're a godsend."

Martha laughed and shook her head, pulling it out from one of her bags, as though on command.  "You know, I've never heard that, but I think there are a couple ex-boyfriends of mine I wouldn't mind you saying that in front of."

Rose laughed and shifted awkwardly in her bed.  "I hate to ask, Martha, but if you could head over to the other side of the room to unpack?  I fell into bed last night."

"Sure," Martha nodded and took one of her bags out to the tiny sitting room, which was more than many other students could say they had.  They could have maybe two guests, if they were lucky, but with a communal area downstairs, it really wasn't necessary.  Nice, though, to have a bunch of space. 

Rose blew out her cheeks and got to her feet, glad that she didn't feel the need to be sick again.  She shuffled through her drawers and found a pair of loose sweatpants and a tank top to change into.  She did so quickly and resisted the urge to fall back into bed, instead going over to start up some tea.  She filled the pot with water and set it back down, getting it to start up.  

Martha knocked on the door and Rose called her back in.

"Oh, good, you've sort of put the kettle on," Martha grinned, "I hate that we don't have a proper kitchen."

Rose wrinkled her nose.  "Maybe after this semester we could get a proper flat.  Outside of the dorm."

"Yeah," Martha agreed, "It's really small."

The roommates grinned at each other.  Perhaps the first semester wouldn't be so bad after all, if they became friends. 

John called the next day, and they'd spoken for a few hours, both of them a bit weirded out by how easy it was for them to talk to each other.  He was honest and charismatic, and she found herself laughing and enjoying herself probably a bit too much for a man she had only met once. 

He had wanted to see her, and she had wanted to see him, but she had too many things to do, and he did admit that he had lots of work to do before his job started up.  He didn't seem to want to elaborate, so caught up was he in the things he had to do.  She laughed and told him that perhaps they'd get together when their schedules sorted themselves out.  He agreed completely and apologized for his busyness.

"It's not your fault," she assured him, "It's the beginning of the year, it's a mess for everyone."

He chuckled and she could hear the smile in his voice.  "Of course.  I should... I should go, though, I really do have a lot of papers to go through."

"Yeah, sure.  I'll talk to you soon."

"Brilliant," he said.  "Goodbye."

"Yeah, bye."

She found herself grinning after the conversation, and when Martha asked why she was in such a good mood, she lifted a shoulder and shook it off.  Of course, there were simple answers, but she didn't have any.  She simply refused to believe that she might have a schoolgirl crush.  That's exactly what it was, after all.  

"I'd like to see you again," he said seriously, when they spoke the next day.

She blinked at his forwardness and swallowed hard at the low tone.  "I'd like to see you again, too," she replied. 

"I have work on Tuesday, but perhaps at four o' clock we could meet at the chippy I dropped you off at?"

"Yeah, I'd love to," she said, timing out her class in her mind.  "That'll be fine."

"Good.  Yeah, great.  I'll see you then." 

They signed off and hung up, and Rose marked it on her calendar immediately.

A few days later, on Tuesday, Rose was feeling much better and on the way to her fist class.  She had dressed up for the occasion, which Martha had told her was ridiculous, but she'd shrugged it off, straightening her light blue dress.  It was floaty and made her feel feminine and graceful, but still casual enough to wear to a class.  It was the epitome of womanhood, and the boys she'd seen while wearing the thing told her that that very assumption wasn't wrong.  

She brushed her hair out and slipped on a pair of simple flat sandals.  "I'll see you later, Martha," she called, picking up her messenger book bag, double checking for everything she needed, and tearing out the door as Martha yelled her goodbye. 

Rose was glad she lived on campus, as she could walk to class very easily.  When she got there, she rushed to find a seat about halfway back, the best place she knew to focus.  She was getting out all of her books when the door to the classroom open and her world shatter. 

"Good afternoon, class, my name is Doctor John Smith, you can call me Professor or Doctor, it doesn't matter which.  My goal is to make physics interesting for all of you, alright?  I'm going to take roll and then we can begin."

Rose raised her gaze up and saw that he hadn't even looked up yet, as he was shuffling papers on his desk.  She sighed in disappointment.  He was just so young, she hadn't anticipated him being one of her professors.  How could she have even foreseen such a thing?

"Timothy Allen," he began, and looked single mindedly at the boys until one of them called 'here.'

He continued taking roll and finally reached her name, and she heard him falter over it as he did so.  "Rose..."  He cleared his throat.  "Rose Tyler?"

She raised her hand, but that was counteracted by her sliding down into her seat.  "Here," she murmured.

He offered her a smile that was half regret and held something soft that she didn't even want to think about.  The point was, she knew exactly what it meant.  It meant they would not be meeting at the chippy after class.  

"There you are," he said quietly, and broke his gaze from her, continuing until he called everyone's name.

He didn't look at her for the majority of the class, as though he was avoiding it, but she studiously took notes, paying her best attention.  She couldn't stop herself by being disappointed, and she found herself watching his movements. 

John really was a beautiful man.  She sighed softly, eyeing up the angle of his jaw, the artful mess of his hair.  It was unfair at best. 

She was getting ready to slip out of the class when he suddenly called out "Miss Tyler, stay after class for a moment, please?"

Rose blew out her cheeks and closed her eyes.  After the other students had filtered out, staring at her like she was an anomaly for getting called to stay after the first day of class.  She shoved her books and pencils into her bag and walked down to John's massive mahogany desk.  She stood before it, not wanting to speak first.  

He looked up from where he was sitting, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose.  He smiled softly at her.  "Hello."

"Hi," she replied, bracing herself for what was coming. 

John cleared his throat and looked away from her for a moment, a dimple appearing in his cheek.  "I'm... I can't... You and I, Rose-"

"-I know we can't meet today," she cut him off, "Or any day.  But you should know that I'm twenty, and probably not as young as you think."

"And I'm not as old as you think," he told her, "But you're also a student."

"I know."

He rubbed his forehead in frustration.  "This isn't easy, Rose, I just-"

"You don't have to say any more," she really didn't want him to finish.  "I'll see you in class on Thursday, Professor."

He got to his feet as she was trying to leave, a panicked look in his eyes.  "This doesn't disregard anything I've said," he blurted out.  "I...  It was a pleasure to meet you, and I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Thank you," she said softly.  "You should know I often require tutoring in math and science?  I will need to find a tutor at some point, most likely."

He seemed confused by her suddenly all-business tone, but he nodded.  "That would probably be me.  But why don't we see if you understand the material first."

"Yeah." She nodded.  "See you."  

With her heart heavy, though she wasn't sure why it was _quite_ so heavy, she left the room, and didn't look back to see John staring after her, feeling as though he'd lost something very important.


	3. Chapter 3

Rose left the classroom, biting back tears in a way that made her feel completely foolish. It wasn't like they meant anything together.  He was her professor, and he had met her before, yes, and _hang on,_ what had a Professor been doing in a club?  He had said that his sister had forced him along, but how much of that had been true?

She blew out her cheeks and closed her eyes, only allowing herself a moment before opening her eyes and breaking out into a jog back to her dorm.  People gave her odd looks, but she couldn't be bothered to care.  It wasn't like she knew any of them anyway. 

Martha was out when she arrived at her suite, and she threw down her bag before sinking to her bed on the poorly flattened out sheets, letting a few tears fall that were mourning for what might have been.  She wiped her eyes and sniffed harshly before standing up and wiping her nose.  

This was ridiculous.  If there was one thing Rose Tyler did not do, it was _cry_ over a man. Especially her professor.  God, how sick was she?  There wasn't much to think about, not even much to say if Martha asked.  All she knew was that even if she needed tutoring, she was going to have to button up her emotions and any feelings she'd had for him.  They were just in their beginning stages, weren't they?  It wasn't anything relevant.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled her mobile out of her pocket and called in to the main office of the University.  She asked for someone who would know about tutoring and waited on hold for a few moments, fiddling with the filmy material of her dress. 

"Hi," she said when someone picked up.  "I was looking to get some tutoring for physics and wondered what the options for a Professor for that were?"

She waited, biting her lip in an uncertain way as the woman on the other line checked on her computer.  It took a few minutes, but the woman finally replied.  "We have two physics Professors at the moment, and only one of them tutors.  That would be... Professor John Smith."

Her eyes fell closed in defeat and felt rocks pile into her stomach.  She was quiet for so long that the woman on the other line called out to her to see if she was still there.  Rose sighed and nodded, even though she knew that the other woman wouldn't see anything.  "Yeah... I assumed that would be the case."

"Would you like me to schedule you for a session?" She asked, and Rose knew it was bad to be angry at this woman, because she was only trying to help.  She had no way of knowing who was on the other line, after all.

"No," Rose said firmly.  "Thank you, though."

She shut her phone off and laid it down on the bedside table.  She knew if there was one thing she wouldn't do, it was to succumb to the temptation of being more involved with one John Smith.  Part of her, a part of her she was sure was completely evil, wanted to seduce him.  She wanted to be a temptress, to make him change, make him decide to meet her at that chippy every bloody day if it meant he could hold her. 

Running her hands through her hair, she banished the thought.  It wouldn't do to think things like that about her Professor.  Now she was nothing better than a dirty school girl, and she didn't know that she could stand that.  She shifted around, sitting cross legged on the bed and pulling her physics book and notebook out of her bag, preparing to do the assignment that Professor Smith had assigned to her. 

 _All of them,_ she corrected herself, the assignment he had assigned to _all of them._ She was nothing special.  It would do her well to remember that. 

Once she fell into the rhythm of not understanding a thing, she was focused on the worry line that had to be coming in spectacularly between her brows and not the physics itself. 

While she was preoccupied, John Smith had waited for two hours in that chippy... Just to be sure. 

The next day was filled with other classes and other responsibilities, and Rose could not bring herself to think about John simply because she was too busy.  Though she couldn't help but notice that she had his number in her phone, and that she could contact him at will. 

And that he had asked her for her phone number on that night that now seemed ages away.  

She had struggled through her physics homework, but once she'd made it, she was alright with it.  Staring at it for several hours had also been a help. 

Martha, to her credit, was incredibly intelligent and was a big help, and Rose started to wonder if she was even going to need the tutoring that John offered.  She was calm and a good teacher, and by the time class rolled around on Thursday, she was prepared. 

She walked into class with jeans and a hoodie on, her hair pulled up into a ponytail.  Her fantasy of being a temptress had fled, mostly in her shame, and she battled herself on it.  Now, if she could keep from distracting him, she would.  He was attracted to her, she knew that, she didn't need to be a tease.

As it turned out, it didn't seem to matter what she was wearing, because even from her seat, she saw John's eyes dilate and she swallowed hard.  He made eye contact for a moment, his mouth slightly open, and then moved his gaze away from her, as though things had gone on for far too long, even though it was only a second. 

"Alright, class, are we all here?" John called out, donning the glasses that Rose had come to associate with quite literally the sexiest man she'd ever laid eyes on.  She tried to tell herself that she was not dirty, because she had been attracted to him since the moment she'd looked at him.  He was gorgeous and kind and it was _so_ terribly unfair that the universe had to do this to him. 

She crossed her legs and laid her notebook across her thigh, and saw how John's eyes followed the motion.  He looked away, but it was more like tearing his eyes away from her. 

As he taught, Rose took down notes, but was so utterly distracted by him that her writing tipped on a slant every once in awhile, making them look sloppier than they were supposed to.  It was a bit frustrating, to say the least, and she started to wonder if it would do her well to switch to the other physics professor.  

She decided, when she steeled herself enough, that she would ask him something that could change them forever.  It could switch the way he looked at her again, and perhaps that was what she wanted.  She felt the press of his lips against her forehead in her mind and her eyes nearly fluttered shut at the thought. 

"I think that concludes our lesson," John said, eyeing up the chalkboard as he chewed the stem of his glasses.  "Yeah.  Yep, that concludes it.  Take pictures of the board if you need to, or come up to ask me a question, if you want."

Rose felt her heart pounding in her chest as she slid her books into her bag and the students filed out.  Rose waited, sitting in her seat, until everyone had left.  She sat and watched him.  "I have a question," she said loudly, her voice not even shaking, and John jolted in his seat at the desk. 

"You startled me.  I thought you'd left," he said, looking up at where she sat.  "Can I help you, Miss Tyler?"

She made her way down to his desk, aware that he was watching her intently and taking her time because of it.  "I'd like to see you again," she said firmly, as though the topic was not up for discussion.  She leaned on the desk and waited for his reply. 

"I told you what I wanted," John said, his mouth set in a grim line as he looked up at her.  "Unfortunately, I do not know how to... Get that, exactly."

"Take it."  She was feeling bold, now that she had hashed out exactly what _she_ wanted.  "I can transfer classes, take the other physics professor, and... See you."

His brows drew together in sorrow. "I wish it was that simple, but you're still a student, Miss Tyler."

"Call me Rose."

"You're still a student, Rose," he repeated.  His eyes searched hers.  "I would do anything to fix this, but short of you dropping out or me resigning, this isn't something that's possible."  

"John."

He shuddered and got to his feet.  "I promise I wish I could do something.  I wish I could meet you at that chippy and we could've talked for hours.  I wish I could've held your hand, and-"

He was stopped by her sliding her hand into his, staring up a him with big eyes full of hope.  "You can.  I won't tell."

"But I would know."

She bit her lip and ran her thumb over his hand, reveling in the light touch of rough hair there.  It seemed to affect him just as much.  "Even if I went to the other professor, this wouldn't change?" She asked, looking for clarity, the heat inside her diminishing as she felt like a bucket of cold water poured over her.  

He shook his head, his eyes filled with the regret she knew he was feeling.  She started to pull her hand out of his, but he held onto it frantically.  After another moment she pulled away harshly, tears of humiliation building more in her throat than her eyes.  

"I'm sorry, I've made a fool of myself," she mumbled, scrubbing her hand over her cheek.  "This was stupid, I'm sorry, Professor, just please forget I ever stayed after class."

He wanted to grab for her, and ended up grappling for her wrist.  "I want to break the rules for you, Rose.  I really do.  I'm drawn to you in a way I should never be."

"Why, because I'm a student?"

"Because you're a student," he whispered.  "If you weren't-"

"-If I weren't in Uni, we could've met at that chippy, and you would've called me that night to make sure I got home safe.  But I go home to my dorm, a little suite that I share with a girl going for her doctorate." She laughed at the irony of it all.  "Please, professor, just let me leave with my dignity in tact."

He released her, staring mournfully at her.  "I won't stop thinking about you."

She smiled wryly at him. "I would be disappointed if you did," she admitted.  "But I think I owe you something, before I go and never come back in here with this intent again."

He nodded at her, waiting for her to say something.  Before she could stop herself, she lifted herself up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek before darting from the classroom like a scared cat. 

He was still for a moment, and slowly, his fingers raised to brush against the spot she had kissed.  He sighed heavily and threw himself back into his desk chair before he dragged her back in the room with him and kissed her properly.

It was foolishness, that's all it was, and she knew it.  She felt dirty somehow, like a woman possessed by a man she couldn't have, which was many a girl's plight, she knew.  

When she got to her dorm and sat down with a cup of tea to do her homework, she found the English done within the first hour and a half.  After starting her physics, though, she was forced to admit to herself that she did not understand the material they had learned that day in class.  A headache crawled up on her and she grunted in frustration as she flipped one of her note papers over.  After looking up and seeing she'd been trying to understand the same page for four hours, she let out a long, sharp breath and put her head in her hands. 

She was going to have to get help.


	4. Chapter 4

Even though, deep inside herself and after several sessions with valiant efforts on Martha's part, she knew she needed tutoring, she decided not to.  It was much easier to shrug off the problem a little bit then deal with it.

She knew that John knew she was doing poorly, but her marks were never scrawled onto her paper.  They were written in a small print, and circled carefully, just in case someone's eyes wandered over to her paper.  She wondered if he did that to any of his other students. 

Every test, quiz, and other assignment she got back made her sigh in frustration.  She wasn't doing well, but she also wasn't staying after class to get the help she needed.  She could practically feel her grade taking a nose dive, and she wanted to catch it, but the thought of what she had to do to do so made her reluctant.

"You've got to, Rose, come on, you don't understand the material," Martha said, gesturing at the papers Rose had strewn across her bed. 

Rose sighed and ran a hand through her tangled hair, cringing as her fingers got caught up in the knots.  "I know that," she said finally.  "But I can't."

"Why not?" Martha asked, throwing her hands up.  "Why are you so exasperated about getting a tutor? It's not embarrassing, I have one for my Biology class."

"It's not about the actual tutoring, it's about who's doing the tutoring," Rose admitted, shifting in her seat, uncomfortable almost beyond words.  She decided it was probably time to be honest with her friend about why she was being like this, because it was only making tension and anger grow between them.  

Martha regarded her carefully, her brow drawn together prettily.  "Well, then, who is it?" She asked.

"My physics professor is the man I met at the club before term started," Rose blurted out, "I can't be tutored by someone I'm attracted to, that can't possibly be allowed!"

She watched as her roommate's mouth dropped open.  "John Smith is a professor?" She asked, her voice just below the register of a squeak.  Rose nodded miserably. 

"And he's the only physics professor to tutor, since the campus is so small," She flopped onto her back with a groan. "This is miserable.  I look at him, and I _look at him,_ and I try not to cause it's completely inappropriate."

"Seduce him," Martha said cheekily.

Rose's cheeks colored deeply as she averted her gaze from Martha's.  "I thought about that."

"You should do it," Martha replied quickly.  "Does he want you?"

"Martha, that's hardly-"

"Does he?"

Rose sat up and lifted a shoulder.  "He said if I weren't a student, if things were different, we could be different."

Martha smiled and sat down across from Rose.  "I know you don't know him that well, but you did sort of feel something for him from the beginning, didn't you?"

Rose's eyes softened and she smiled a little.  "Yeah.  He's so kind, Martha, and I felt sort of drawn to him.  I can't explain it."

"Then isn't that something worth fighting for?" Martha asked.

"Not if I'm the only one fighting," Rose objected.  "Listen, he's my professor, even if he is young, and I don't want to get him fired."

Martha stood up and threw Rose a wink over her shoulder.  "He'll only get sacked if he gets caught. Just dress up a little for your next class."

Rose smiled and shook her head.  "Yeah, alright."  

When her next class rolled around, Rose decided it might be best to follow Martha's advice.  She'd shaved her legs and painted her toe nails, so really, there wasn't anything better.  She dressed in an admittedly short black skirt with a white peasant blouse tucked into it.  It looked professional, and she looked _older,_ which might have been a good thing.  

After donning black sandals, she touched up her makeup and threw her bag over her shoulder, hoping Martha wouldn't notice her leaving the dorm. 

Unfortunately, Rose was never a girl who aired on the side of luck.  Martha whistled at her and clapped.  "Go get him!" She shouted, pumping her fist in the air.  Rose blushed and waved, murmuring a goodbye before bolting out the door.

She could feel his eyes on her when she entered the room. He was at his desk, shuffling through papers, sexy specs firmly on his face.  His gaze followed her to her seat, where she pulled out the homework that Martha had done her very best to help her with.  The paper itself looked like it had been through the war, as she had done a lot of erasing and crinkling of it.  

Everyone else seemed to know what they were doing, and not even John's gaze on her kept her from furrowing her brow and worrying at her bottom lip.  This really was a mess, and if she had literally _any other_ instructor, it wouldn't have to be this way.  She crossed her legs and waited patiently for class to start, determinedly not looking at John. 

"Alright, class, let's begin.  Pass your homework to your left, please, and I'll collect it at the end of your rows."

Rose gave her paper to the girl next to her without looking at her, and was beyond shocked when the girl laughed. 

"My God, Tyler, could you have jacked up this paper any more?" She asked loudly.  "Look at this!" 

Rose met the girl's gaze, even though she could feel her face burning in her embarrassment.  She said nothing. 

"Poor thing.  Aren't you supposed to be an heiress?"

She had hoped no one would ever bring up her father's money, ever, _ever._ She swallowed heavily.  "I don't know what that has to do with-"

"That's why she's a heiress!  Cause she can't do her schoolwork for crap!" The girl teased, and other people in the class started tittering as she passed the papers over, and all of them craned for a look at Rose's. 

"Enough."

He hadn't raised his voice, but it carried and John's tone flowed through the room and struck everyone there in the heart.  Rose transferred her gaze to him to see him glaring at everyone else there as he took papers. 

"I think there was enough of _that_ sort of behavior in high school, don't you think?" John said, "You're adults now, and it's commendable that even though Miss Tyler is struggling, she's doing her best to get ahead.  As for you, Miss Ashton," he returned his gaze to the girl who sat next to Rose.  "You'll be getting a zero on this assignment."

'Miss Ashton' as she was called, gave a cry of disbelief.  "Oh, come on, Professor, can't we work something out?"

Rose felt red hot jealousy flow through her and she pursed her lips.  John's eyes sparked in anger and he turned away from her. 

"I'm afraid that although that particular tactic might have worked on your high school history teachers, it doesn't work with me," he said, causing the other students to laugh.  

He collected the last of the papers.  "That doesn't excuse the rest of you for your behavior," he said harshly.  "You will not gang up on Miss Tyler or any other student in this classroom, is that understood?"  He didn't want for anyone to reply before continuing, "And _because_ of this behavior, Miss Tyler, if you'd like to stay after class, we can go through your paper together and you will receive full credit."

Rose lifted her eyes to his and managed to nod around her mortification.  She was terribly upset and forced down tears, trying to already be moving on from this particular event.  It was not how she had foreseen the day going. 

John addressed the indignant shouts from the students with his own cry of "Enough!  You've all done this to yourself.  And you'd best pay attention to today's lesson, because today is going to be on the test."

Everyone fell silent and Rose found herself feeling more withdrawn them ever, and she started to regret her daring choice of dress.  This wasn't a good idea at all.  Regardless, she shakily picked up her pencil and took notes, highlighting what she didn't understand and overall just trying to make it through the class.  

When John finally dismissed the class, he fell into his seat, feeling strangely worn out, but not necessarily tired.  A fire had been lit in him when that girl had attacked Rose, and he would see to it that such a thing would not happen again.  

The classroom emptied in silence, and Rose walked down to John's desk, feeling small and foolish.  "You asked me to stay."

He looked up at her and smiled softly.  "Yes, I did.  Pull up that chair from over here, we'll look over your work."

Rose did as he bid, placing her bag against his desk next to his own and retrieving a pencil from it.  They were close now, sharing space.  He really was a good looking man, and was rather intoxicating on top of it all.  

She was sitting stiffly, feeling uncomfortable with her heart pounding in her chest.  "I... I just don't understand."

"Why don't you come to tutoring?" John asked, sounding almost hurt."

"I think you know why," she said, finally meeting his gaze. 

"I'm not going to take advantage of you, Rose," he said slowly.

She laughed softly, "It's not you I'm worried about."

His eyes darkened and she watched it happen, her own breath hitching.  She wrung her hands together, quite a feat with a pencil in her hand, but still somehow possible. 

The eye contact lasted for longer than Rose could ever remember her looking at somebody.  He was searching her, and she knew it, could feel it, and couldn't stop herself from searching him in return.  She could hear her own breathing and she swallowed, almost audibly. 

"You think... That you-"

"You know exactly what I think of you," Rose said, looking away, "Can we please just look at this paper?"

John sighed in a ragged sort of way.  "Rose.  I just...  Every time you come into class, I can't stop myself from thinking about if things were different."

"Me too," she whispered, unable to look at him.  She stared down at the desk, at the little pencil holder he had, which was pretty much just a square, blue mug that she found rather odd.  He really was very organized while at the same time being not organized at all.  There was an order to things, but it wasn't one she understood. 

He seemed to be struggling for something to say, and God, she could _hear_ him breathing.  He brushed her hair back from her face and then cleared his throat, as though he couldn't believe he'd done that.  "Right.  We should get looking at this."

She listened to him as he spoke, his voice low and digging into her body in a way she didn't think she'd ever be able to describe.  As they were talking and working through the problems, she found that they were moving closer and closer together, their shoulders brushing, his arm behind her on her chair.  

It all very rapidly came to a head when she turned and her nose bumped his on the movement.  He gasped and his hand flew to the small of her back, almost brushing the skin under her top.  

"John," she whispered, and he shivered as though she'd touched him directly.  He reached around to grab her chair, spinning it so they were facing each other, their faces close together.  

"I miss you," he whispered.  "When we talked on the phone, that was-"

"I know.  I know it was."  She drew her mouth into a thin line.  "I was a bit incapacitated at the club, and no one has ever helped me the way you did."

He laughed, "My sister was a bit frustrated with me for leaving her to take a pretty, sick girl home."

She smiled at him.  "I'm glad you did."

"I am too." 

He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, his fingers shaking.  He seemed to be steeling himself only a moment before he brought himself closer to her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pressed his mouth to hers.


	5. Chapter 5

She gasped against him, and he started to pull away, apparently unsure, but she shot her hands into his hair and she curled her fingers, keeping him right where he was.  He moved his hands to her waist, pulling her ever closer, and sighing shakily, started to move his mouth over hers.  

Every coherent thought either of them had had about 'wrong' or 'indecent' was wiped away with the breath of the other person on their lips.  He opened his mouth over hers and traced his tongue along the seam of her lips, which she opened with embarrassing quickness.  His fingers clenched into her shirt and they kissed with a heavy passion until the both of them had to break away from each other, mouths glistening. 

He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek before he snapped back, pushing his chair away from her and scrambling to his feet.  

Rose smoothed her hair down, at a loss with what to do to with her hands now that they weren't on him.  She gulped and stared up at him, waiting for him to say the first words.  He ran his hands through his hair, which had been artfully sculpted by her hands just moments before. 

It dawned on her, exactly what had happened.  She felt a blush rise up her chest and neck.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, shoving her books into her bag.  "I don't know what I was thinking.  I'll go now."

"Rose, it was me," he said, rubbing his hand over his forehead.  "I shouldn't have-"

"But you did," She whispered.  "Forget it, please, just forget it."  She stood shakily and his eyes fixed on her, on how she looked, rumpled by him and in professional dress.  His mouth opened and then closed.  

"No, I don't want to forget-"

"Professor Smith, I'll be doing all the work assigned to me, and I'll see you in class."  She rushed past him and flew from the classroom, but not before she heard him calling out after her.  

It was a foggy walk back to her dorm, her hand over her mouth as she tried desperately to hold all her tears in.  Now, that was colossally unfair.  There was so much that could have gone _right_ about today and yet everything was wrong, and would continue to be wrong.  She blinked nearly violently, clearing her eyes, and took a deep calming breath.  She knew that if they were different, if she had been just a woman she had met in a club and not in his class, he probably would've followed her from the room and kissed her again, and again, and again.  She blew her cheeks out and adjusted her bag on her shoulder.  

Of course, it wouldn't do well to think about it now.  She stopped in the bottom common area of the dorm and brewed a quick cup of tea, not feeling as though she could be bothered to go up to her own dorm to make some.  Martha would only ask questions about how her 'seduction' had gone, and she could say without a doubt that it would have been a resounding success if neither of them had had their wits about them. 

Finding herself calm after her first few sips of tea, she decided that if she was going to stay down here and avoid Martha, she might as well get some work done.  She did have plenty of work to do, lots of it for physics.

She sat at one of the larger desks in the common area where she could spread out her many books.  It was only a few moments she was alone before a boy sat across from her, with shaggy blonde hair and a crude smile on his face, looking as though he'd already won something.

"Can I help you?" She asked, cocking her eyebrow at him in her impatience.

"I've never seen you around here before," he said, leaning his elbow on the table.

Rose sighed, knowing full well what he was after and also knowing, full well, that she was not in the mood.  He was good looking, there was no denying that, but she wasn't out to deny, she was out to get away from him.  "Well, that's because I'm usually up in my dorm."

"Oh," the boy pulled out a cigarette and Rose eyed him carefully.

"You're not supposed to smoke in here," she said, "And if you're gonna, get away from me, ta, so I don't get in trouble."

He put the cigarette back and smiled widely at her.  "So if I don't smoke, I can stay right by you?"

"I'd prefer you didn't, but I have a feeling that I can't boss where you sit in the common area," she said, lifting her pencil and taking absent notes from her book.

The boy laughed.  "You couldn't be more right.  I'm Jimmy Stone."

"Rose Tyler," she replied, still looking down at her books. 

"Sexy name," Jimmy said, "Want to show me that dorm room of yours?"

Rose squinted at him.  "I have a feeling that you have been in a lot of these dorms already."

He smiled and shifted in his seat. "Maybe I'm not who you think I am," he said absently.  He reached out to touch her cheek and she jerked back with such a force that would make a decent man apologize and pull away, but Jimmy laughed and tapped her chin instead.  "You've look like you've been crying.  I could take your tears away."

"The only thing I'm concerned about is my grades.  Bye, Jimmy."

"Did I say I was done sitting here?"

Rose looked up at him, gripping her pencil so hard that her fingertips turned white.  "You didn't have to, because I said you were."

"You're a feisty one, you are," he smiled at her, "Haven't met a girl like you before.  By now, they'd be falling in my lap.  Can't say I'm not waiting for it, you know."

She hadn't been propositioned like this in a long time and was overall repulsed by his actions and words.  He leaned with the swagger of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and suspected that he was going to get it.  These were the kinds of boys Rose had gone with in high school, and Mickey had despised them, as her friend.  He'd always warned her and she'd never listened.  Maybe she'd go down tot the chippy to have a chat with him about this Jimmy character.

"Well, in that case, you'll be waiting a pretty long time," Rose said casually, "Try until you're dead, maybe?  I won't be going for you."

"Is that a challenge?" His eyebrow lifted and the laugh line on the left side of his face came out as the corner of his mouth lifted in what was either a smirk or a leer.  

"No, it's permission for you to get away from me," Rose said, tapping her eraser against her notebook.  "I don't have to take this from you or anyone else, and I won't, either.  Goodbye."

"Can I call you?"

"Nope."

He stood up, and Rose looked up at him, realizing for the first time that he towered over her, and she was really quite small.  Even John, though the same height as Jimmy, would seem incredibly lean next to him.  Rose set her jaw and stared at him, not moving from her seat or showing any signs of discomfort.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to find you again," he pulled out the cigarette and winked at her.  "Study hard, babe."

Rose gritted her teeth and looked back down at her books.  She didn't want to see him again, but on the other hand, nothing with him had to be serious.  She could simply use him to get her mind off John.  Of course, he'd use her.  

But she wouldn't let him get that far, she knew that, Rose Tyler wasn't that sort of woman.  She tapped her foot angrily at herself and continued her physics assignments, writing every letter carefully so that when she looked over them again, everything would be neat and in order, and she wouldn't have to worry about bloody Miss _Ashton_ calling her out on a mussed paper again.  It had just ruined her whole day, bit by bit.  

There were loads of things to consider, when it came to fancying your professor, Rose discovered.  She chatted with the other students to find out about the other teacher and found that he was a mean old man that didn't want to help anybody with anything at any point in time.  He was grouchy in the mornings and peckish in the afternoon.  Rose ran a hand through her hair and thanked the girl she had asked for all her help.  So changing classes was out.

Why did she have the luck of being at a university with only two physics professors?  One of which was dashing and attractive and _attracted to her?_ Unrequited attraction was one thing, but this was an animal she never thought she would have to face.

"What do you mean, you snogged him?!" 

Rose lay on her bed, throwing a stress ball up in the air and catching it over and over.  "Exactly what it sounds like.  One minute, we're talking about physics, and then the next thing I know his tongue is in my mouth."

"His _tongue?_ In your _mouth?"_

Rose couldn't help but laugh at her friend's shock.  "Oh, come on, it's not like we were shagging on his desk."

"Did you shag on his desk?"

"No!" Rose sat up, looking at Martha with a shocked expression.  "No, we didn't, because once I took a breather he was up and away from me as though he'd never been more repulsed."

"Pardon me, Rose, but I've met Professor Smith, and although he was very nice and very, _very_ good looking, he doesn't seem like the type to just snog any old student."

Looking down, Rose squeezed the ball between her fingers, watching distorted bits of orange pop out from the gaps in her knuckles.  "No.  A girl propositioned him in class and he shut her down pretty hard, and gave her a zero marking for doing so."

"So you're the only one he wants to _do_ do."

" _Martha."_

Martha smiled apologetically.  "Sorry.  I don't get out too much, already busy with getting my doctorate, you see the loads of stuff I come here with."

Rose nodded.  "I know," she said in an appeasing fashion.  "I also know that I'm the only one John is after, even though we're trying not to be after each other."

"Maybe you should just..." Martha paused, gesturing a little vaguely with her hands, "Give in to each other."

"Yep, well that started for a moment, and look where we are now."

Martha smiled sympathetically.  "I don't know, Rose.   I just don't know."

The next afternoon, she dropped off her homework at his desk when he wasn't there and skipped class.

***

"Miss Tyler!"

God, that voice.   _God._ And how rude of it, to call her when she was walking along campus to her lit class, like a normal, regular _student._ Plastering on a firm face, she turned around to where John was running breathlessly to catch up with her. 

"Professor Smith," she greeted, perhaps a bit too warmly.  She did her best to shove off that train of thought as soon as possible. 

He was panting as he fell into stride beside her, not noticing how she was clutching the strap of her messenger bag.  He walked silently next to her for a few moments, as though trying to get up the nerve to say one thing or another.  She waited patiently, glancing over at him every once in awhile until he decided to speak. 

"You missed class."

"Yep.  I turned in my assignments."

"Oh, that you did, I'm not accusing you of not doing so.  But new material was discussed and I wouldn't want you to miss-"

Rose glanced sideways at him, and the action alone made his breath hitch audibly and he cut himself off.  Rose shrugged. "Give me some chapters to read, I'll catch up."

"No, Miss Tyler, that's really not how you learn physics.  Chemistry, yes, you can learn in a book, but not physics, not really.  I could invite you to a tutoring session."

She let out a shuddering breath that she knew he heard.  "I don't know if that would be a good idea, Professor Smith.  And you must know it's not you I don't trust."

He offered her a small smile.  "Then we should meet in the library?  Nice, communal area where we can keep our hands to ourselves?"

Rose laughed, couldn't stop herself, it was just such a wild statement.  She nodded and stopped walking, turning to face him.  "I guess that would be acceptable."

He looked relieved, clasping his hands together in front of himself, and Rose noticed how lovely his hands were.  And now that she knew how they felt, well.  Her eyes snapped back up to his own and it appeared as though he'd caught her looking but wasn't about to say anything about it.

"Tomorrow?" He asked. 

"I have a history class at ten o' clock.  After that, I can," she said, already having her schedule memorized and lucky she did at that particular moment. 

He nodded and seemed to catalog that into his brain.  "I think that will work just fine.  I look forward to it, Miss Tyler."  He stuck his hand out to shake her own and she did so laughingly. 

"Thank you, Professor Smith.  For taking the time to help me."

His eyes softened as their hands dropped, fingertips brushing each other on the downward pass.  "Of course," he said, his voice laced with something too tender for her to not shiver just a little bit.  "Well.  I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah.  Tomorrow."   _All the tomorrows.  If you want._

He grinned at her and waved a little, an odd gesture, before darting away.  She smiled and turned back to her lit class, feeling lighter than she had since a stranger drove her home and kissed her on the forehead.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter than my Pirates AU, I anticipate this being 2 or 3 more chapters. Enjoy :)

Rose's English Lit class was far more boring now that she had to deduce in her own mind what to do with herself before tomorrow.  It had not been a romantic invitation, she knew that, but she couldn't help but repress her excitement at seeing him alone again. 

Or course, they would not be alone, there would be librarians and other students and the like, but the thought of it was still there.  She had a lot to learn and the fact that he had been so willing to assist her did wonders for the fluttering in her heart. 

Tapping pencils on the desks around her were not enough to distract her, though, she knew that this development should not stop her from doing the rest of her work in her other classes.  her Lit professor was a very old woman who still managed to try and be interesting, even as she shuffled about.  She was named Barbara and made sure the students knew to call her by just that name, which everyone gratefully did. She was laid back and the workload was doable, much to Rose's relief, as physics consumed much of her time, seeing as how much she did not understand the subject. 

That night, even though John had told her precisely how _not_ to learn physics, she read through the next chapter of her book, just to give herself a leg up, she told herself.  Of course, it only made her furrow her brows and mouth 'what' at the page before having a cup of tea and turning herself in for the night. 

Martha woke up early and clamored about the room, making Rose wake up earlier than she would have liked, but the day was still a day that demanded to be faced.  If she dressed a little nicer today, in slim black jeans and a flowing, flattering red top, who was anyone to notice?  She put her favorite hoop earrings in and examined herself in the mirror.  Shaking her head, she bid goodbye to Martha and threw her bag over her shoulder. There was no way that a man like that could feel anything for her.  She was practically ordinary.

History class seemed to pass much slower since she was waiting for it to end.  Her professor's voice droned on and on in a monotonous fashion that made her eyelashes flutter as she almost fell asleep several times.  She propped her head up in her hand and stared sleepily at the blackboard, wishing Martha had let her sleep later.

"Miss Tyler?  Are you listening?" The booming voice of professor Harold Saxon's voice traveling over to her. 

She sighed and turned her head to him, nodding firmly.  "Yes sir."

"Very well."

She was shocked he took her word for it, but managed to keep her eyes on him to make sure he wouldn't ask her again and make her recite a date or something of the like.  She honestly didn't have the faintest clue what he was talking about, but she knew she could easily look it up in the book later.  She blew out her cheeks and continued a deliberate and detailed doodle of a flower in her notes.  Unlike physics, she wouldn't have to pay spectacular attention here, for which she was grateful.

When the class ended, she stuffed everything into her bag and was about to bolt out when Mr. Saxon called out "Miss Tyler, hang back for a moment."  Unlike John's kind voice, Professor Saxon sounded irritated and much like he wasn't about to do anything to help her. 

Feeling very much put out by his call, she headed down to his desk and stood before it.  "Yes, sir?"

"You know, I find that it is better for yourself if you pay attention during class," Professor Saxon said, tapping a large eraser angrily against his desk.  "I know you're a very good student in other's classes."

Rose narrowed her eyes at Professor Saxon.  "Pardon me, sir, but isn't it against the rules to be talking about your students?"

"No," Professor Saxon said firmly.  "This isn't high school anymore, Miss Tyler.  And you should know that although Professor Smith gave you glowing reviews in his class, I can't do the same."

"I didn't ask you to," Rose replied, "And for the record, I _am_ enjoying your class, sir, and I'm doing my best, but I don't need to be told not to be tired.  I'll see you in the next class." She left the room in a bit of a huff, heading straight for the library. 

Even with being held up in her class, she was still there before John, and she found a table to sit at and hoped he would find her.  She set out her books and started drawing aimlessly in her notes as she looked through some of them.  

She heard him before she saw him, and he fell into the chair next to her, his face red with exertion.  "I ran here," he explained.  "I didn't mean to be so late."

"It's okay," she replied, "I was a little late, too.  Professor Saxon held me back to complain at me."

John groaned as he pulled out his lesson plans.  "Professor Saxon can be a bit much," he said, "I'm sorry about him."

"Why?"  She laughed.

"We used to be friends in school.  He is certainly not the best person to be around."  He flipped open his book with his (perfectly marvelous) fingers and found the page he was looking for.  "Alright, here we are," he said, leaning over and pushing the book towards her. 

She leaned her cheek in her hand again, but it was more to focus than to show that she was board, because she felt more alert now that she was with him.  "Yeah, I don't know about this," she laughed a little, a forced sound.  "This looks frustrating already."

"Now, no, don't psych yourself out," John scolded lightly.  "You just have to take it one step at a time, it'll be fine."

It was more intimate than she had anticipated, leaning over a book they were sharing, whispering because it was so quiet in the library.  His shoulder brushed hers on several occasions, his fingers touching hers, and she felt incredibly immature for the effect it had on her.  

He was flipping through her notes when he found the page she had been drawing on quite furiously.  "That's lovely," he said, touching the branch of the tree she had drawn.  "You have an artist's eye, Miss Tyler."

"Oh, no, no, that's nothing," she said, shifting a bit uncomfortably.  He smiled at her.

"Well then, I'd like to see when you're not drawing 'nothing'," he teased, mimicking her tone.  She giggled.  

"Maybe someday."

He seemed to take it in stride and continued to talk quietly to her about physics, his voice low and rumbling.  The tone of it was something that she could easily see herself growing obsessed with.  He spoke with a passion, making it clear that he _was,_ in fact, passionate about what he was speaking of.  She wondered what he would sound like when talking to a woman he loved, but realized that she only wanted to hear it if she was the woman he was speaking to. 

"I can give you some notes," John said, digging them out form his bag.  

She leaned over the table to watch him retrieve them.  "How is it that you fit all that stuff in there?" she asked, laughing a little. 

He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows.  "Maybe it's bigger on the inside." 

She rolled her eyes and fell into her seat again.  "Oh, yeah, sure."

"Well you never know," he said, "I could have plenty of secrets, Miss Tyler."

She decided to just smile at him before she tackled him over the table, which was coming very soon, she was sure.

But then again, things seemed to be going too well.  He was close to her, his heat radiating to her through their clothes and to her skin.  The longer he talked, the more tender his voice grew, and she heard him quietly clear his throat several times.  When she turned to look at him, their noses almost brushed and the sound of their breath hitching came from both of them.

She turned her head away quickly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, twirling her pencil once to try and distract herself.

"No, all my fault," he said in a rushed voice.  "I can't seem to... Keep myself... To myself," He gave an awkward laugh.  "I'm sorry, is the point."

She offered him a tight lipped smile.  "I think it's both of us," she admitted, lifting a shoulder. "That we have these feelings-"

"Yes, feelings." He closed his eyes for a moment.  "It's really not my fault that you're intoxicating," he said, barely above a whisper.

Rose couldn't hold back the giggle bubbling up in her throat at his words.  "Yeah, well."

It was shattered, though, as all good things must be shattered, by a hand smacking onto their table, jolting them both.  Rose looked up into the face of Jimmy Stone and groaned dramatically.  

"Rose Tyler," he said, drawing her name out and making her cringe.  

He smelled heavily of smoke and Rose was repulsed by that very notion alone.  She felt John stiffen next to her and blew out a heavy breath. 

"Hello, Jimmy.  I'm in the middle of something here."

"Tutoring?  I could've tutored you in physics, Rose," Jimmy's voice was near a purr as he leaned over onto the table with both palms pressed against the top, his fingers spread across their papers.

Rose really didn't mean to run her foot up John's calf.  But he jolted and she bit back a smile to instead say "Yeah, but you're not a Professor.  Not to mention I would rather not talk to you again, thanks."

Jimmy pursed his lips in frustration.  "I think you'll find, Rose, that I'm not the worst person to talk to," he smirked, the left side of his mouth quirking up.  "Among other things."

"This is a completely inappropriate conversation to have in front of an instructor," John said coldly, meeting Jimmy's eyes with a resolute stare.  "And I will not have you harassing Miss Tyler, is that understood?"

Jimmy was not fazed by John's words, but Rose certainly was.  She was drawn to the power in his voice, her mouth slightly open.  Even when he had spoken to Miss Ashton, it wasn't anything like this.  He meant business, and he was _angry._

"Oh, come on, Professor," he rolled his eyes and turned to Rose.  "I'm in dorm 370, Rose.  You are welcome to come up any time, and I'll tutor you better than this old man ever could."  He winked at her in what she assumed was supposed to be a charming fashion before walking away.  

She looked over at John to see that his hand was clenched around a pencil, almost cracking it in his grip.  His other hand was laid in a fist over some of their papers.  Rose, with her hand shaking, reached over to touch his hand gently.  

He snapped his gaze to her, his eyes blazing with a fury that lit a fire in her that was now demanding to be stoked.  Neither of them said a word for a few moments until he breathed a heavy sigh.

"Do you know him?" He asked, his voice gravely quiet.

"He hangs out in my dorm sometimes,' she matched his tone, "And I don't 'know' him in the way you're asking."

He swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. "Have you... Have you got this, then?"  He removed his hand from under hers, flexing his fingers and moving away from her.  

Sensing he wanted her to leave, she started to put her papers away.  "Yeah, I think so," she said, "I'll bring you the assignments tomorrow."  She shoved her notebook in her bag with more force than necessary. 

"It's not you I don't trust," he mimicked her words from the day before, his eyes averted from hers, but she could see the darkness from them even where she was. 

"I trust you," she replied. "And thank you."  She picked up her bag and left the library, feeling angrier at Jimmy Stone then she had ever been at another man.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE/TRIGGER WARNING- Jimmy does get a bit handsy in this chapter and it is not graphic and does not go far at all but I thought I should still mention it

Things flew rather smoothly until Christmas break.  She was staying at school, as was Martha, and they were planning to go out to celebrate the holiday together.  Even though they were going clubbing and meeting up with the likes of Shireen and Keisha, Martha looked like the epitome of class.  She wore a pine green dress with one strap that was covered in rhinestones.  It was belted and the tight dress was fitted to her better than anything Rose had ever seen at a department store. 

Counteracting that, Rose was wearing a red dress that fell to her knees and was gauzy, with sheer, long sleeves.  Underneath the gauziness of the sleeves, a sweetheart neckline could be seen.  Like Martha's dress, Rose's had a belt, just at the innermost curve of her waist, slimming her incredibly, and dotted with a white metal buckle.  She smoothed her hands over the dress, fingering the fabric as she slipped her feet into matching red pumps.  Turning around, she observed the back of the dress, a v-back that cut to halfway down her spine, laces running up so that it still fit her well across the chest.  It was a hodge podge of a thing, which was why Martha had suggested she buy it. 

Martha styled her hair at her desk, humming happily to herself and Rose touched up her curled hair and lipstick.  "What club?" She asked, dabbing at part of her lip. 

"The one closest to that chippy Mickey works at," Martha responded. 

Rose felt her heart stutter in her chest, which really wasn't her fault.  It was as though something about that place was tied to her, and now she was spending a bloody _holiday_ there.  Sighing, she straightened up and looked over at Martha.  "You ready?"

"Yep!" Martha slipped her black shoes on and shoved a twenty pound note into her dress.  "You have some money?"

Rose patted her upper chest and nodded.  How she'd get to it through the dress she wasn't sure, but she would certainly try, should she need it.

"Now, no waiting for each other, right?" Martha asked cautiously.  "Just in case?"

"Just in case.  But if we go home with someone, we text the other person," Rose replied, shaking a finger at her friend.

Martha laughed and shoved her keys into her purse.  "Yeah, absolutely.  You know me."

Rose wrinkled her nose.  "Why is it that I have the sinking suspicion you're going home with one of my best friends?"

Martha winked.  "Because I might be.  Don't worry, I won't give you any gory details."

"Good, cause I don't want any."

They took a cab down to the club, laughing and chatting the whole time. They'd grown very close since the beginning of the school year and Rose felt that she was very lucky to know her.  They texted Shireen and Keisha to let them know where they were and Rose gazed out the window at the darkness settling over the city. 

"So, you still hot on that professor?" Martha asked conversationally, picking at a piece of glitter that was stuck to her dress. 

Rose blushed and faced her.  "I mean... I haven't, not with anyone else-"

"Oh, you _are,"_ Martha smiled.  "I think it's sweet, really.  You'd be good together too, if he wasn't such a stickler for rules."

"Well, he doesn't want to get fired," she replied weakly. 

They made it to the club without incident, meeting up with everyone else and heading inside, where people were dressed for the holidays but the music conveyed quite the opposite.

Rose thought it was rather sad, the amount of people who were in a club over Christmas break.  She hadn't gone home because she had known that her parents wouldn't have been able to make time for her, and she would need to study.  Her mother had been disappointed, bu thad agreed, wanting Rose to get her degree. 

Of course, this far out from the home of Vitex, no reporters were out to take shots of her and her mother would never know that she had been out clubbing.  Of course, it was just the one club but... Well.  Rose's first stop was the bar, as she felt she needed a glass of wine to feel a little loose.  Martha sat with her, and they were sitting there minding themselves when Jimmy Stone sauntered up, already half sloshed. 

"Rose," He growled, his hand wandering over her waist before standing at her side. 

"None of that," she moved away from him, and Martha's gaze darkened in anger once she set eyes on the man. 

Rose knew, deep inside the darkest part of herself, that if she had not met John, if she had not been so infatuated with him, she would have fallen for Jimmy rather quickly.  When she was in high school, he was exactly the kid of boy she fell for.   Rude and rugged.  That was what she had wanted, back then, when she herself was reckless enough to try and rebel. 

"Rose, it's Christmas, don't you want to stay with me for the night?" he asked. 

"You're a little forward, don't you think?" Martha asked suddenly.  "Sod off, she's not interested."

Rose blew out her cheeks.  "Yeah, Jimmy, I really don't know how many times I have to tell you no, honestly, because I'm going to keep telling you no."

"You don't think we're going to eventually fall into each other's arms?" Jimmy said dramatically, stumbling a bit.  "Can I buy you a drink?" 

"No."

Jimmy looked completely furious, his eyes snapping with an anger that would make her cower, had she not been with a friend.  He hurled expletives at her, shouting and pointing and making obscene gestures.  Rose knocked back half her glass of wine and stood up, giving Martha a look before leading the way to the dance floor.  

Rose tried to get lost in the crowd, which was not difficult to do.  Martha shook her head.  "Can't believe him," she shouted.  "He came on to me once and let go.  Don't know why he can't accept it from you."

"Because he saw me with John, I think," Rose shrugged. "Can't be sure, obviously."

They lost themselves to the dancing, Shireen making a cheeky comment about Rose being upright this time that sent the rest of them to laughing.  The bass pumped through them and against probably her best interest, Rose decided she needed another drink.  She was sweaty and uncomfortable and her mouth was dry, and she made the conscious decision to not get anything alcoholic.  

On her way to the bar she thought she saw a man she recognized with spiky brown hair and a brown suit, but shook her head.  Surely half a glass of wine wasn't enough to get a girl sloshed, was it?

She sat at the bar and ordered a tall water, which made the bartender chuckle a bit.  "Are you driving home?" He teased, setting the drink before her.

She smiled.  "One of us has to have our wits."

The bartender tapped his nose and them pointed at her.  "Smart girl."

He moved on then, leaving her no one to talk to as she sipped her drink and tried to get her ears to pop around the abundance of noise.  After a few moments,  she felt a hand close over her mouth and whiskey-hot breath in her ear. 

"If you say a word, I'll leave you so broken and battered that your bloody Professor won't even know how to identify you," he hissed, and Rose felt bile rise in her throat.  Jimmy Stone. 

He pulled her off the stool and out the back of the club.  She tried to shout for the bartender, but remembered what he'd said, and chose to be quiet as she shoved her against the club wall, the music still thundering against her ears and back. 

"What do you want?" She asked in a shaky voice.

He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders, effectively caging her in so that any hope of moving was just that; a hope.  "I think you know," he said in a gravelly voice.  "Are you really that stupid to keep turning me down?  What are you playing at?" 

She kept quiet, biting her tongue, because anything she wanted to say was inappropriate and would probably make things escalate further.  So instead she just met his eyes and clenched her jaw, her hands in fists at her sides.  

"Answer me!" 

"I'm not playing at anything," she said softly, "I didn't do anything wrong."

"That's bull!"  He was drunk, really drunk, and Rose knew he would have the filter to be doing absolutely none of this had he not been drinking.  "You know what you did, you're a filthy tease, and that stops now."

He stepped forward, crowding her space, and she had just enough time to let out half a scream before his mouth closed over hers.  She beat her fists against his chest and he took her hands, pinning them to the brick.  

She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, so she followed her instinct and brought her knee up sharply to crush into his groin.  Jimmy cried out and stepped back, bending over at the waist. She was just about to take off when an unknown man lifted Jimmy up again and punched him in the nose, breaking it, blood pouring down his face.  

"Come here."

It was John.  Rose let out a sob and stumbled toward him.  He gathered her into his arms and held her for a moment as Jimmy crumpled to the floor, holding his nose.  Rose shivered as she realized what she had done wouldn't have held him off for long. 

 "Come on, now, let's go," John murmured, taking her by the hand and leading her around the side of the club.  She recognized his car and let him open the door for her before she crawled in.  He got in on the driver's side and buckled his seat belt, looking at her nervously.  "Are you alright?"

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears even as she did so. 

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"No," she gasped out. 

"I don't know where to... I can't-"

She covered her face with her hands and nodded.  "Yeah you can," she mumbled, and that settled it.  

"Okay, buckle up," he whispered. 

He drove her to his house, which was rather close to campus, though it wasn't quite within walking distance.  He led her into the modest place.  It wasn't a flat, it was a very small house, and Rose wondered just how well off a professor could be before he gestured for her to sit on the couch.  She didn't move from his side. 

"Do you want a cuppa?" He asked, walking towards the kitchen.  She kicked off her heels and padded along after him, feeling exposed in her dress.  

"Sure," She said softly.  It made her feel weak, what had happened, and she was still shaking.  He wanted to embrace her, she could tell, but he was giving her her space because he wasn't sure what she would do, what she would want in this situation.  

She made the first move, standing forward and pressing her forehead to his chest.  John wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on the top her her head.  She sighed and put her own around his waist.  It was uncanny, how instantly she felt safe.

"He'll be expelled," he said.  "I'll go to the board, they can't let a student like that stay on.  And since we're both witnesses, it'll be alright."

"I don't want to talk about him," Rose murmured.  "I'm not... I dunno, scarred, but I'm a little bit shaken.  That's all."

He bit back what he was thinking, that it could've been worse, that something awful could have happened to her.  He ran his hands up her back twice more before pulling away to fix her tea.  

"I think you should stay here tonight."  John said, "He'll go back to your dorm.  You know that.  You'll be safer here.  I have a guest room."

"Thank you," Rose wrung her hands, "But I don't have any clothes."

"I... Hang on."  He put the kettle on and disappeared upstairs for several minutes.  When he came back, he was holding a lump of clothing.  "Here."

She took the clothes, which turned out to be light sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt.  She smiled timidly up at him.  "Where's your bathroom?" 

He directed her and touched her shoulder lightly to get her to look at him.  "You know, you look beautiful," he said shyly, as though he hadn't meant to say it at all. 

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, a gesture of innocent thanks.  "Thank you, John."

She disappeared into the bathroom, and John had a lot of trouble not staring at her legs as she walked away. He looked up at the ceiling and scolded himself.  This was going to be a long night.


	8. Chapter 8

When she returned, her hair was loose and puffy, as though she'd combed out the curls with her fingers, and she was wearing his clothes.  She was _wearing_ his _clothes._   That fact alone did not escape her and it was boarder line incredible to think about, and she would have thought about it more, were she not so distressed.  It had done more than just roughed her up, her encounter with Jimmy, and she wanted nothing more than for John to hold her as she slept. 

Either way, she'd end up in his guest room, which was fine with her, because if there was one place she didn't want to be, it was her dorm, where Jimmy had access to, broken nose or not.

Remembering her promise about going home, she texted Martha telling her what had happened and where she was, and not to worry.  After sending it she put it in the pocket of John's sweatpants, not wanting to be bothered with the response just yet.  

She padded into the kitchen, where John was waiting for the kettle.  

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, his voice and face the epitome of concern.  "I could send out for something."

"That would be great, thanks."

"Chinese okay?"

She nodded, and cleared her throat, trying to force down wayward tears and confessions that were building up.  It was ridiculous.  She hadn't been about to die, but God, it had felt like it.  The parts of her that had been touched by Jimmy still felt scathed and she felt as though she needed a very long bath.

He noticed, of course he did, noticed her wringing her hands.  "I..." He paused, "I suppose asking if you were alright would be completely inappropriate?" 

"No."

"Are you alright, then?" 

Rose took a shaky breath, but managed a shrug.  "I think so."  She met his eyes, a sort of wonder written on her face.  "John, if you hadn't been there-"

He approached her, cutting her off, his hands touching her shoulders lightly, lightly enough that she could get away if she wanted to.  "I was there," he said softly, "One of the designated drivers, didn't even want to go.  But I'm glad I did."  Against both of their better judgements, he reached up and cupped her cheek with one hand.  "I'm sorry anything happened to you at all, Rose.  You have to believe me."

She leaned into his touch slightly, her eyes looking up into his.  "I do."

He breathed out a sigh of relief and squeezed her shoulder before releasing her completely and walking to his phone to order them something.  "Watch the kettle?" he asked as he left the room, and she agreed with a hum.  

The kettle boiled a moment after he'd left, and so she poured the contents into two mugs, after looking around, and brought down milk and sugar.  It occurred to her that she didn't know how he took his tea, and so she stared at it for a few moments before preparing her own and leaving out the things for him to decide what he wanted. 

When he came back in, he offered her a reassuring smile and she gestured to the counter, almost ignoring it.  "I didn't know how you took it," she said.

He dropped in three sugars and a generous dash of milk, making her giggle a little. 

"What?" he asked her, the amused tone evident in his voice.

"I dunno, just never pictured you for a sugar fiend," she said.

He looked up, as though staring into space, and sighed thoughtfully.  "Yes, I suppose I am.  You have me pegged."

She laughed again, and felt her spirits lift.  She didn't feel uncomfortable or violated, not when she was with him.  There was something about him that erased every other touch she had felt, every other flirtatious word. 

Though they hadn't breached the obvious, of course.  That she was a student, wearing his clothes and about to sleep in his guest room, take dinner with him.  It made her feel warmer inside than she would have anticipated, and she took a gulp of her tea, to quell the blush rising up on her cheeks, or at least give her a reason to have said blush. 

"Are you... Are you doing alright?" He asked, cautiously, "Just in general?  You look very tired."

"I didn't get to go home," she said, "For the holidays. You know, that's not necessarily a bad thing, but people keep having parties in the dorm."

John wrinkled his nose.  "How is there even room for that?" He asked, almost directed to himself.  

She giggled.  "Dunno."

"Did you... Not want to visit your parents?"

"I would've just ended up in the newspapers," she waved him off.  "You know, the whole heiress thing?  You didn't visit your family either."

"Don't have any."

"Oh.   _Oh,_ I'm sorry."

"Well, it's certainly not your fault."  He looked over at her earnestly, making sure she understood what he was trying to convey to her, that it really wasn't her fault at all.  "We could watch a film if you wanted?  I think we're probably both a bit keyed up and we're waiting for dinner anyway."

Rose nodded.  "Okay."

His living room was almost barren, except for shelves of books and the odd three books on the table about psychology, and one about the Renaissance era.  She picked that one up and flipped through it while he hunted through the film cabinet.  It looked old, but was so well taken care of she would be hard pressed to think that it was an antique. 

"You like that book?" He asked.  

She looked up a little guiltily.  "Yeah.  I love this era.  Everything was just so wildly different.  It's interesting to learn about, no matter how old you are or when you learn it."

He sat next to her, a DVD in his hand.  "I agree," he said, peering over at the art she was looking at.  "That's a lovely piece," he said, "A steady hand, to paint something like this," he ran his finger over the curve of a blue line that spread out into a lighter color.  

"It is," She said, her eyes drawn to the color now, more so than the other pieces, or the faces of the men in the painting. 

They were both quiet for another few moments as she flipped through, skimming and sipping her tea.  John noticed the reverence with which she touched the pages and a smile graced his lips against his will. 

"You can have it, if you want," he offered a little shyly. 

She snapped her head up to look at him.  "What?"

"It's yours," he repeated.

"I can't take this from you," she sputtered, setting her cup down on a coaster on the coffee table.  "I really can't, it's so old, and nice, and-"

"Rose."  He cut her off, his dark eyes cutting into hers.  "I have a newer edition if I ever wanted to look at this stuff again, which I'm sure I won't.  I'm more of a concrete science man, you know that.  This... This is what interests you, I want you to have it."

She smiled at him, a genuine thing that he could get used to seeing again and again and again, if she would let him.  She touched one of the pages on the book gently, running her fingers over the thin page.  "Thank you," she said softly, barely above a whisper.

"You're welcome."

They put on a film, a science fiction thing that was really very bad, but they needed something to laugh at after the night they'd had.  They started out on opposite ends of the couch, the both of them very aware of their surroundings and the person next to them.  Their tea mugs drained and just as Rose was possibly thinking about moving a little closer to him, his doorbell rang, and she jumped. 

He attributed it to her being nervous, and touched her knee gently as he stood.  "It's alright," he said as he passed her and walked to the door.  He chatted with the delivery boy for a moment and then returned to her side, boxes of Chinese food in his hands.  

They distributed the food without a word, and Rose picked up her fork before remembering that he had just paid for her.  "What do I owe you?" She asked suddenly. 

His face, when he turned to look at her, was the essence of surprise. "Nothing," he said, "You've been through a lot tonight, Rose.  This is just... It's... You don't owe me anything."

"I do though," she blurted out.  "I'm rubbish at physics, don't even know how I'm not failing that class, but you keep helping me.  You've taken me home when I was in trouble twice now... I'll never _stop_ owing you."

John's brow furrowed at her words.  "No."  His voice was firm.  "If anything, I owe you.  You're unlike anyone I've ever met.  I'm very lucky to know you."

She blushed and that seemed to settle it.  They ate quietly and turned their movie back on, but when takeaway containers joined the tea mugs on the table, it appeared that all bets were off.  She moved to his side, and he most certainly let her, his arm over the back of the couch.  When she was close enough to be considered arm's length, he pulled her up against his side.  She curled up there, head against his shoulder, and reveled in it, wondering why nothing like this had ever felt no natural with a bloke before. 

He sighed and his grip tightened on her.  She'd expected to be tired after eating and watching television, but found that it was quite the opposite.  She was wired, electrified by the four points of where his fingers touched her, and where their bodies connected. 

She was so close to him that she could feel his heart under his shirt.  He'd removed his jacket and tie and she was wondering how she never noticed that triangle of skin just under his throat before now.  

It was at that moment that she realized she had to get away from him, or she would end up doing something they both regretted.  Or, rather, that _he_ would regret, because she would not regret for one second anything she wanted to do with him or talk to him about. 

"I still have your phone number," she murmured. 

"I still have yours," he countered easily, sounding oddly content. 

She smiled.  "I feel-"

He breathed out a ragged breath.  "I know."

She fell silent, and the credits of their film rolled.  His fingers traced over her shoulder, over his shirt, and her eyes fell shut in bliss, not tiredness.  Without realizing, she nuzzled against his chest, and he brought her closer to himself. 

"I shouldn't."  He whispered.

She tried to pull away at his words, feeling guilty, but he tightened his grip just slightly, a gesture of _stay.  Please stay._

"That's not what I meant," he said, shifting so they were facing each other on the couch, but still very close.  "I am _not_ supposed to feel this way for a student."

She blinked, not expecting such a confrontation right now, much less ever.  "And what way is that, exactly?" She asked cautiously, knowing she sounded about as brave as a mouse, but looking into his eyes was far more intimidating then being pressed up against his side. 

He cupped her cheek again, which seemed to be a gesture he rather liked, and she did too.  It was tender and intimate without going too far, though she wouldn't necessarily mind that either.  

"I'm not supposed to want to ask you about your day, or take you our for coffee, or dinner, or dancing.  I'm not supposed to want to know everything about you, to call you up at three in the morning just when I need a chat.  You have possessed me in a way no other woman has and I don't know how you got _in_ but I don't want you to leave."

She let out a shuddering sigh.  "If it makes you feel better, I'm not supposed to want a taxi home at two am with my professor, either."

He laughed, a relieved sound.  "We've been-"

"Avoiding each other, yes," she nodded before leaning into his touch.  "I don't want to do that anymore."

"I don't either."

"What _do_ you want?" She asked carefully, her eyes searching his and only finding honesty underneath the brown in his irises.

"I want everything with you," he said softly, but it was still a conviction, a confession from his innermost being, and he was hard pressed to ignore it anymore.  He looked at her in class every day and longed to be the one to walk her out of it, just to hold her hand. 

She smiled and leaned forward, brushing her nose against his.  "Then take it."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading this story! I had a lot of fun writing it! I'll take requests for the next AU because I don't even know what I'm doing but I know I'm obsessed with writing them, and I want them to be longer and more words.
> 
> You can submit by commenting here or going to my tumblr (doctor-who-hears-a-horton) either is fine and probably most of them will get done as I have run short on ideas

He let out a shuddering sigh, close enough to her that she felt his breath flutter across her lips.  His eyes closed, his eyebrows drawn together as if in concentration.  She almost cried out at the loss as his fingers dragged along her cheek and away from her, settling both his hands in his lap.  

She continued to watch him and didn't back away, wanting to be close to him, finding an inexplicable _need_ to be close to him.  She shifted in her seat, letting him know she was there, and he opened his eyes again, darker and more intense then before. 

"I can't," he whispered.  "My job, I-"

"They wouldn't have to know, John," She pleaded, reaching out and copying the motion he'd performed against her, the palm against his cheek.  "What tears you apart more?" She asked.  "If you don't want... I'll leave.  I'm making you uncomfortable."

Dejected but accepting the fate, she started to stand, but John reached out in a panicked sort of way and grabbed her arm, tugging her back down to the couch.  "I want, and that's the problem, Rose.  You distract me in class and you're not even _doing anything._   Even if we had met in class, not in that club, and we hadn't talked beforehand,  I still would have been drawn to you.  I just don't know what to do."

She sat before him quietly, his hand still on her arm.  He held it as though if she ran, he would be the one sitting alone on the couch with the thoughts of the night running through his mind.  Remembering what had happened to her at the club, he drew his hand down from her arm.  "Sorry," he whispered. 

"It's okay," She replied, meeting his gaze. 

"Maybe it wouldn't be as deplorable, if you-"

"If I?" She smiled, "How does that make it any less scandalous, John?"  Her tone was gentle and a little bit sad, and he searched her gaze, finding nothing negative. 

"It doesn't," he admitted, "But I'd feel better, if you started it... In control."

She shifted forwards, a little uncertainly, but her tentative attitude disappeared.  Her hand plunged into his hair and she dragged his mouth down to hers, kissing him.  He let out a gentle gasp, as though he hadn't expected her to go through with it, and slid one of his arms around her waist.  

Shuddering at his touch, she pressed forward, her knee against his thigh, bracketing her leg between his.  His free hand fell to her hip, giving her a gentle squeeze of reassurance.  Feeling rather reassured actually, she lifted herself up, separating her lips from his.  He looked up at her in shock, as if she was going to leave him there, making him feel dirty.  To assuage his fears, she got up onto her knees and straddled his legs.  His hands both landed on her waist, and he looked up at her as his fingers stroked the material of the shirt there. 

"You're wearing my clothes," he said softly. 

"Yeah," she breathed out. 

He kissed her again, initiating it that time, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up against him, clutching her as though he would never hold another woman again.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers trailing into his hair again.  It was soft beneath her fingertips and she found that she really wanted to be touching it at all times.  

His hands moved to splay across her back, palms flexing against her.  She arched into him as she moved her mouth over his, encouraging him.  He finally broke away and kissed along her jaw, pressing open mouthed kisses down her neck.  

"John," she said softly, holding him against her.  He groaned against her neck and curled his fingers into her back, fisting the shirt in his hands.  

He pulled back, mouth wet and shining, and the way his eyes gravitated to a spot on her neck told her that he had probably left a mark there.  She grinned and wriggled against him, making his eyes fall shut. 

"Rose," he stilled her hips.  "We shouldn't-not tonight, not after what happened to you tonight-"

She grabbed his face and made him look at her.  His eyes flew open and he stared at her, full of something too close to love for her to name. 

"What happened to me tonight didn't happen because of you, John," She said softly willing her to believe him.  "Don't you see that?"  She studied him for a moment, and then asked slowly, "Why did you help me tonight?"

He shifted uncomfortably and she had to bite back a sigh at the sensation.  "I couldn't bear for you to be in trouble," he said.  "I saw him start to take you our of the club, and the way you'd been towards him before sort of told me that you wouldn't leave with him willingly."  he searched her eyes pleadingly, trying to ask her _please,_ don't make him say more. 

"Go on," she whispered.  Somehow, reliving the moment didn't seem so bad when she was with him, with his arms around her, keeping her feeling incredibly safe.  She squeezed his shoulders, encouraging him. 

He sighed and pulled her forward so she was more cuddling him on his lap then using it as a gateway to anything else.  Her head rested against his shoulder, her nose against his neck.  He squeezed her closer to him.  "So I told my friends I would be leaving, and they'd have to get taxis home or have our other mate drive them, and I came after you.  I had to, Rose, I couldn't leave you."

She closed her eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to his neck.  "Thank you," she whispered.  She kissed him there again, traveling up to his jaw and moving across his cheek to capture his mouth again.  

He breathed out a long, reassured breath through his nose and they kissed leisurely for awhile, memorizing each other and finding that they found an intense sort of comfort in each other's touch. 

Wordlessly, he helped her climb off his lap, but before she could ask any questions or doubt herself, he got to his feet and took both her hands in his.  he kissed her forehead and started pulling her back towards the back hallway of his home.  "Come with me?" He asked softly, giving her the chance to pull away if she wanted to.  She stepped forward and looked up into his face.  

"Always," she replied.  

It was honest, her response.  This was not the infatuation of a student with her teacher, a horror story of scandal.  Of course, yes, it was a scandal, or certainly would be, down the road, but that was not the focus.  He was young, for a professor, definitely not a dirty old man, Rose thought to herself as he took her to his room and offered her shy glances over his shoulder.  

He would deal with his job, he thought as he shut the door.  She was worth it.  He saw it in every smile that lit her lips, ever word that fell from her mouth.  There was something special about her, and he was obsessed with the notion of calling her his.  The way she was looked at him told him that she felt likewise.   

She wrapped her arms around his neck again and kissed him.  That was it, he thought.  He was a goner.  He knew this wouldn't be something temporary, not with her.  He couldn't bear to let her go after tonight, though he would be forced to if she wanted to. He realized he had to ask, to make sure this was real to her as well. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, panting a little as he pulled away form her.

She realized what he meant and nodded slightly, the motion barely perceptible in the dark.  "Yes," she said softly.  

He didn't say anything, just kissed her again.

*****

She lay with her arm wrapped around his waist, his arm stroking through her hair.  He brought the blankets around them, dropping a kiss to her head before resuming his fingers tangling through her hair. 

"What are we going to do?" Rose whispered against his chest. 

"Stay here for tonight," he said, drawing his fingers along her shoulder.  "We can't... We can't tell anyone," he shifted down on the bed so he could look her in the face.  "And that is going to be very difficult, because all I want to do is show you off to the world," he admitted quietly. 

She smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see it in the dark.  "You and I, John, this was something that would have happened regardless of where we had met. You know that, don't you?"

He chuckled lightly.  "Yes," he said.  "Sleep now," he continued softly.  "We'll both be here in the morning."

She laughed and cuddled against him, her head under his chin.  She waited until he'd fallen asleep before she whispered, "I think I love you" against his skin. 

*****

They woke up tangled together, gripping each other as though they'd sought each other out in their sleep and had barely found each other.  He'd kissed her good morning and groggily rolled out of bed, dressing himself.  She got dressed as well, back into his clothes and her knickers, and plodded along after him. 

He talked to her quietly about this and that and everything while he made her breakfast and she made the tea.  They found that they were a very natural team, walking around each other and stopping at the right moments.  They fit, and it was really that simple.  

Of course, no one could find out about them. When they went back to classes John had to refrain from asking her to stay after every single class so she could keep him company while he graded papers (though he did do that sometimes, and she was getting so good at physics due to his tutoring that sometimes she could held him as well).  

He lied to the board.  He knew if he was caught that they would be in deeper trouble then ever and he would lose his job, but he couldn't bring himself to be afraid of that.  There were parts of him that felt guilty, but they were erased every time he looked at her. 

"We going to dinner tonight?" He asked her casually.

"What, in public?" She asked, startled. 

"Yep," he winked at her.  "That is, if you want to go to Paris."

She widened her eyes and her mouth dropped open slightly.  She looked up from the movie they had been watching and blinked once, twice.  "Are you... Are you asking me to go to Paris with you?"

"Well, it is summer break, and you can't spend all your time at Vitex now, can you?"

She beamed and threw her arms around his neck.  "I'd love to go to Paris with you," She said gleefully, kissing him in thanks.  He felt a little smug at her reaction and she smacked his chest before cuddling back into his side.  "Thank you."

****

He proposed to her there, on a dreadfully sunny day that matched both their dispositions.  She'd subconsciously looked around for someone to spot them before grinning and agreeing, happy tears in her eyes. 

Of course, they'd have to wait until she graduated, but since Rose Tyler was only going for a two year degree, John Smith was a very happy man sooner than he would have expected. 

She looked beautiful, of course she did, and some of the people in the congregation seemed confused, almost like they were onto something, but they couldn't do anything to stop what was unfolding right before them.  Even if what they had had started before, nothing could be done about it now.  She was a post grad, after all.  Rose winked at him when she reached the top of the aisle, her veil covering the action from any one watching. 

"I love you," she whispered before the ceremony properly began, her hand in his. 

"I love you too," he replied. 

Both of them, whether they wanted to think about it or not, rather thought that their lives wouldn't have been quite as good if Rose Tyler hadn't had a stomach flu at a club just before her first year of university.


End file.
